Heavy In Your Arms
by Countess Millarca
Summary: You can only feel truly alive when you have experienced death.
1. Obsession

**Disclaimer: I do not InuYasha. All credit belongs to Takahashi, Rumiko-sensei.**

She should have been _his_. The husky moans coming from her lips should have been for him_. _Her soft voice should have been chanting his name. Her glistening skin should have been bared for his touch only. How many nights had he been forced to endure such misery while he listened to the sounds she made taken by another? He could have left, never to return. Yet he stayed because he could not bear to be without her; even if she belonged to another.

Time heals everything. He believed as such when he was young. This thought had proved to be his only comfort during countless tormented moments. He clung to this self-imposed assumption with desperate claws, refusing to acknowledge the bitter truth. Time does not heal; time only enhances. Many years had passed since then. Many women had given themselves to him. Many nights he had been lost in the hypnotic embrace of another. Yet he still could never break free of his accursed obsession; because none of those women were _her_.

He had realized belatedly a pattern had been born without his conscious approval. He only chose women who resembled her - be it her features or her personality. Perhaps, this was his way of compensating for her treachery. If he could not have her then he could mold another into being her. Yes, he could teach them to be like her. The foolish thought had caused much grief and only ended in tragedy time and again. For no one could replace her. He was doomed to fail horribly each time he tried. Lifeless blue eyes of different shapes and shades haunted his troubled sleep for centuries to no end as a result. They could never measure up to her radiance. More than that, he could not bear to look at them without seeing what they had become; abominable sins he would have to carry within his soul forever until she were to live in this plane once more.

He knew this to be true. He was certain he could come upon her again. She had told him as such. He only had to wait; and wait he did until he could meet with her again. However, time has a way of distorting our best laid plans, shattering the frail illusions we wrap ourselves in. Another woman had appeared before the appointed time had come. She was different from his love yet much the same in how she made him feel. Hence, for a time he had slumbered, forgetting all previous thoughts of his wicked wish. He could never appease the dark beast hungering for her touch each time she surrendered to his will. He gave in to the intoxicating feel of her embrace in a frenzied attempt to purge his first addiction from his mind; and he finally succeeded.

He should have known _she _would never allow him to escape her poisonous clutches though; even while another had allowed him to lull his tired spirit but for a passing moment. He should have remembered she never made empty promises. He should have expected she would appear before him once more and destroy his carefully constructed haven. Caught in a delusion of ephemeral peace, he was cruelly awakened when _she _passed him by one morning without warning. She was exactly as he recalled her to be; a radiant being, forged by the light of the sun itself, piercing trough the jaded remnants of his soul. Everything - and nothing - had changed in the mere blink of an eye.

He desperately attempted to act as if he never saw her in vain. He lost himself in the hedonic call of his lover's skin. He allowed himself to fall deeper in the tangled web of lies he had spun around him in order to survive _her_ absence. Yet the tempting body which writhed under him did not elicit the same rapturous sensations within him as before. The pale limbs which encased his muscled form wantonly could not hold him prisoner to their desire any longer. For the first time in his seamless existence, a pair of vermillion eyes - filled in ecstasy and shocked horror - joined the countless azure lights dancing in his mind.

The dull ache of the unforgivable crime he had committed once more was overshadowed by the silken shimmer of her raven hair, dominating his hazy vision with each passing day forward. He would stalk her delicate form with utter bliss in his beating heart only to be bathed in despair when she would leave this world to return to the other – to _him_. Yes, she still belonged to him, he would always remind himself, acrid hatred slathering his soul at the thought. He could no longer allow it. He would not. He had not awaited her return only for her to run to another man again.

The moonless night was the perfect setting for their final reunion. Exuberant joy slithered under his skin, a feral grin carved on his elven features while he watched her every move intently. She packed her provisions, had dinner with her family, and said her goodbyes. A triumphant howl built in his chest, threatening to betray his presence before the destined time. How beautiful she looked – his elegant flower of evil – her slight figure filled with excitement as she readied herself to leave him and this world behind. However, the puzzle pieces had already been arranged. Tonight would be the last time.

He almost regretted his decision when the warmth of her youthful skin seared his fingertips upon first touch. Had she always burned like molten lava? Was his blackened soul to blame for his inability to no longer withstand the touch of a creature that lived in the light? The strange questions evaporated like mist as she turned to trap him in her brilliant azure pools. Surprise mixed with fear, confusion succeeded by recognition, and finally elated awe; the intricate emotions passed like lightning in the depths of her bewildered gaze. She reached out to him then, lifting a dainty hand he once had thought to be Kami's touch upon his face, but later came to realize it had actually been the bane of his existence.

An angelic smile formed upon the corners of his lips, a cruel masquerade of the person she remembered him to be. Enthralled, he watched the column of her neck as she swallowed inaudibly, the curve of her jaw as she parted her lips to call out to him. He drank in the way her liquid orbs filled with false hope – expectations of another time – dreams never meant to be.

"S-" the gentle timbre transformed into a muted scream before she had a chance to form his full name. Pain filled moans caressed his ears as she clutched at his arms weakly. How he had longed to hear these blessed sounds; and it finally came to be. His tall frame shook with the suppressed howl he had forbidden himself from releasing earlier. He was not aware when her presence disappeared from the dimmed lit shed for her existence had been permanently etched in his mind at last. The crimson liquid coating his claws would never be unwashed. She would accompany him for eternity down to the very last drop of her essence. She had become _his_.


	2. Fascination

The metallic scent of freshly spilt blood was almost tangible in the night breeze. A restless wave washed over the eerily silent forest, alerting all creatures to the presence of wounded prey. Claws twitched nervously, hungry growls erupted, shadows crept towards the source of the sweet smell; predators eager to sink their fangs into soft flesh and tear viciously through bones to satiate their hunger. All but one.

There was one among the beasts that walked the earth at night who did not share in their palpable exhilaration. No opponent was a worthy match for his might and he had no want to partake in pleasures of the hunt. However, even _he _was drawn to this particular prey as if by an unseen force guiding his steps. No, he was certainly aware of what that compelling force was - the useless heirloom his sire had entrusted to him after his death. It resonated with a bothersome insistence, leading him towards the old well he knew was situated not far from the village his half sibling resided in. He had no desire to chance upon the bastard hanyou this night, yet he could not halt his steps as he leisurely approached the well.

The tempting scent cloaked his skin enticingly as he came closer, but no sight of fallen prey greeted his golden gaze. The tantalizing smell was coming from beneath, his acute senses concluded, as he peered inside the wooden well. A small form was hunched at the bottom, shaking in rugged spasms, fighting for breath. A ningen onna. The damned sword seemed intent on ordering him around to save young women of its own volition as of late. His Father's unhealthy fascination with human women must have passed on to the sword unwittingly, he thought vexed.

A strangled gasp echoed through the well's confined space, drawing his attention back to the injured female. She had seemed oddly familiar at first, yet he recognized her identity clearly now. This was no mere ningen onna; she was Inuyasha's miko. The hanyou would come running to her rescue soon undoubtedly. There was no reason for him to become involved nor did he wish to. He should leave this place before difficult complications occurred; however, the moment he turned his back to walk away, Tenseiga pulsed strongly at his side, voicing its silent disagreement. He understood what the sword was mutely conveying to him. Even if the hanyou arrived at this point, it would be far too late for the woman. Her mortal injuries could not be healed by human remedies. Her fate had been sealed the moment she received those wounds; though, he knew naught of the culprit who inflicted them upon her.

Decision made on an impulsive whim, he jumped down the well to carry the miko out. He didn't need to be careful with her injuries as it mattered not anymore. She would have to die first if there was any hope of salvation for her. Her soft cries were muffled against his pelt, her lifeblood coating the lustrous fur before he placed her on the pliant grass without hesitation. He did not wish for more intimate contact with the woman, but the arm his half brother had severed did not make things easier on such occasions - another reason why he should turn his back and not bother himself with the miko. She was not his responsibility. She was just another woman his bastard brother had failed to protect. Such weak creatures they were; both Inuyasha and this onna. He could not fathom how his sire had deemed Inuyasha worthy of Tetsusaiga. The powerful sword should have belonged to him.

A frail hand reaching for his silk hakama caused his attention to return to the woman. He cast a diminutive glance towards her only to be stunned when he found himself reflected in a darkened blue sea. This woman's eyes…they were different. He had never encountered such eyes in anyone before; youkai or ningen. His golden eyes widened slightly when he recalled their first meeting at his Father's grave. She had the power to make the impossible possible. She had surprised him then, making him question her nature. No living being had ever withstood the corrosive acid of his claws, yet she had survived. It may have been due to his Father's fang, but the truth was still there. Inuyasha would have never been able to cleave his arm off if it had not been for this woman's presence. Such a strange power this miko held.

"Se-seshoum-maru," the broken whisper, spilling from her blood painted lips, brought him back to reality. She must have had enough clarity yet to be able to recognize his form above her. Her small fist curled around the silk fabric as her sapphire depths drew him further in. He lowered himself to the ground fluidly, shortening the distance between them. She seemed intent on speaking her last words and he found himself strangely curious of what they would be. Would she beg for her life? Curse him for being there? Ask for his brother?

"I-I am s-sor-ry," she breathed hoarsely, her faltering voice swallowed by the night wind before she gathered her last strength to brush her fingertips by the billowing sleeve of his kimono where his left arm should have been originally. He caught her limp hand on instinct before it hit the ground, watching with a frozen expression as the light dimmed slowly in her azure pools until all life abandoned her struggling body.

"A strange onna indeed," he remarked in a deep baritone passively, feeling the warmth of her skin seeping through his palm. He placed her lifeless hand on her chest as he stood to unsheathe Tenseiga, waiting for the minions of death to appear patiently. The sword hummed against his hold, eager to perform its duty; and, for once, Sesshoumaru did not find himself burdened by the task.


	3. Passion

Her body felt heavy, unbearably heavy. Her listless limbs refused to obey her brain's commands to move even an inch. Is this what the afterlife felt like? Trapped by invisible bonds, caged inside your own mind? Panic overwhelmed her half lucid mind, urging her to lift her lowered eyelids frantically. She had no inclination of what would greet her gaze, but it had to be better than the despondent black hole that had swallowed her whole. Her long eyelashes fluttered slowly, a star woven sky fanning above her. Night. It had to be night time at the very least. Her foggy gaze searched for the opalescent moon yet a Prussian blue crescent came into her clouded vision instead. She focused on the royal marking on _his _ageless face; it had to be him, she knew of no one else with that mark.

"Sesshoumaru," she croaked in a throaty whisper, her voice devoid of her usual clear nuance. Golden orbs captured her confused gaze, demanding her undivided attention.

"Miko." The rich silk of his baritone confirmed her initial guess. He was here with her. She was here with him. She was alive. She had to be alive.

A long, shuddering breath escaped her tight throat, her small form shaking with relief as scalding tears sprang from her eyes. She laughed then, an eccentric sound – akin to yowling - breaking through the mystified atmosphere engulfing them. He merely perused her quavering body with veiled indifference, waiting for her to come out of her shock induced breakdown. So absorbed he was in his disconcerting musings regarding this strange woman, he missed the way her muscles tensed before she hurled herself against him. Soft flesh enfolded him in an unyielding embrace, thin limbs encircling him tightly, seeking to share her mortal warmth with him. Her heartbeat raged against her ribcage, reminding them both of how fragile a creature she truly was.

Her erratic breathing ghosted over the curve of his neck, velvet lips grazing his skin, awakening primal instincts within him. Her supple thighs straddled his lean waist, her heaving chest melded on his armor, uncaring of the spikes pressing viciously against her. This human female was dangerous; far more dangerous than he had initially estimated. A low, growling sound reverberated deep in his chest, warning her to cease this intimate contact of their bodies and remove herself from him. She clutched him tighter instead, slender fingers sneaking into his silver tresses to massage his scalp adoringly. Had her recent experience with death damaged her mind in some way? Did she not realize what her actions implied? Could she not recognize who it was she was offering herself to? Because there was no other explanation for her behavior.

"Sesshoumaru." The wanton reverence in her low voice as she uttered his name provocatively against his pulse shattered the last remnants of his control. He had brought this woman back from death. She was alive only by his benevolence. She was more than willing. She was his to take by right and choice.

Kagome could feel the moment his mind reached a decision. His weight shifted lightly until he was pushing her down against the soft grass. Her lust laden gaze followed his every movement as he untied the ties of his intricate armor, diverging himself of his swords at the same time. She reached towards him with uncertainty marring her features. She wished to touch him again, feel the solid muscles flex under her fingertips, verify her existence through him. He captured her trembling hand, guiding it towards the center of his chest. Empowered by his acceptance, she half lifted herself from the ground, untying the lacings of his kimono with slow motions. Her raven crowned head tilted back, cobalt water boring into golden fire as she parted the lapels of his kimono and pushed it down his broad shoulders. Alabaster skin shined under the moonshine.

Her transfixed gaze followed the harsh contours of his muscled torso to stop at the only deformity, standing out starkly against such perfection. Clawed fingertips prickled at her jaw line, turning her head steadily to meet with his entrapping golden gaze. He expected to see pity or a similar emotion hiding in her eyes at the sight of his mutilated arm. A bestial rumble spilled from his throat, dying away when he recognized the raw emotion dancing in her misted depths. Shame. She did not feel pity for him, but shame for having caused him the loss of his arm. Foolish woman. Did she really think him so weak to be incapacitated by such a minor affliction?

The feral growl intensified once more as he used his lithe body against hers to bore her down forcefully. Pinned beneath him, she shivered at the animalistic sound, vibrating against her skin. She was left with no other choice but to surrender to the call of lust he had ignited within her. Burning fingers branded her flesh wherever they touched as her clothing came undone to leave her naked before him. Entranced, she traced the alluring crescent moon, gracing his forehead, with a fingertip.

Her back arched off the ground as he surged forward with purpose, filling her to the brim without warning. Pain. Pleasure. Ecstasy. She had never felt more alive than at this transient moment - with him poised above her - dominating her completely. Soft curves slid against hard muscles in an erotic dance. Mellifluous tones and feral howls sang a rhapsody to accompany the wild joining of their bodies. Then she was falling in a weightless abyss. She climaxed in a blinding torrent of pure light, clenching around his hard length with violent spasms. His forehead descended on her own, gold merged with indigo, fierce growls devoured breathless moans, silken walls consumed heated flesh.

_Ahhh…I am alive…I am here…_


	4. Corruption

Hushed breaths disrupted the tranquility of the night. Entangled pale limbs, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, were bathed under the incandescent moonshine. Neither dared speak a word of that which had transpired between them mere moments ago. They merely basked in the afterglow of their hedonic lovemaking, seeing no reason to voice the undeniable inevitability. Everything – and nothing – had changed.

"Sesshoumaru," she whispered hazily, the feminine voice struggling to escape her abused throat, his name raw power on her tongue.

She needed say no more. He understood perfectly well the implications of their circumstances. They were beings who were never meant to become one. Yet the truth – laid as bare as their naked forms – could not be denied. They had succumbed to untamed lust and the call of life. The reasons held little meaning before the rendered reality.

"Come," he ordered in a sovereign rumble as he disengaged himself from her palpitating heat reluctantly.

She borrowed from his unwavering strength as she followed after him passively, her thoughts plagued with worry and anxiousness. How was she to explain this to the others? What excuses could she use when she had none herself? For once in her fleeting existence, she had just wanted, needed, craved, and he gave what no other had ever given before freely. He asked no questions, made no demands, had no expectations of her. Was this how freedom truly felt like? Was this what it meant to be _alive_?

The old hut where her friends stayed came in sight, calling for her attention with brutal intensity. She expected to see a silver crowned head dashing towards them, hollering profanities as usual. She was not prepared for the mass of auburn curls that obstructed her vision as a small form jumped in her arms, hugging her warmly. She stood petrified, azure orbs glassy and dull, her mind refusing to acknowledge the weight against her chest. A shrill, blood chilling shriek echoed through the serene atmosphere. Familiar faces passed before her unseeing eyes, insistent hands shook her immobile form in vain. Sharp claws raked her side, piercing through her momentary stasis. The veil, clouding her vision, lifted agonizingly slow. Ivory fur caressed her cold cheeks and she exhaled a sigh of contentment. She was safe in _his _embrace.

Emerald eyes followed her shaking frame questioningly, childish confusion shimmering in their depths. Innocence. She gazed back at his guileless gaze, wondering how someone so pure could be capable of such corruption. She silently wondered what could have transpired to turn him into the monster she had glimpsed upon but hours ago. An angelic smile curved the corners of his lips, reassuring in its guiltless luster. She buried her face deeper in the silken furs, hiding away from the promise of what was to come, lurking in those deceptive pools. A soft rumble lulled her spirit, encased her in a protective cocoon, silenced her nightmares. For now.


End file.
